Ad Hominem
by JaymeDray
Summary: "All eyes were permanently trained on me because nobody had ever-would ever see anything like the insanity I was displaying, involving what Finnick had annoyingly code-named 'the accident'. By the time I saw her lost face, it was already too late to go back." A story set in the Hunger Games universe starring an original cast with guest appearances from Collins' characters. Slash.


**For those of you who weren't expecting this creation, join the club. I had a vision and I must share it with you.**

**For those of you who don't know me, I go by Young Artist 77. I have two stories on this site, this one being the third one (the charm). My second story, Where the Sun Sets Early, is my priority at this point and it takes much of my free time. **

**On the creation of this story: I like testing out new territories and I recently got fascinated with the idea of creating my own cast and plot within the Hunger Games setting. I love the Hunger Games characters (*cough Marvel) but people have mentioned that they might be interested in glimpsing at how my original characters look like. So, during my driving test today seven am in the morning, I created the concept behind this story that will fuel the juicy conflict. **

**Like most my works, this has a new, unique twist that I do not believe I have ever seen as of yet. Feel free to deem it stupid but I think it's fun to take some risks. I seek to stretch the limits of what this fandom could be about. **

**As a Pilot Chapter, the reviews and comments regarding this fic will decide its eventual fate. I understand that people are reluctant to give up their adored characters but I am hoping they will give this a chance. I enjoyed writing it and I would want to continue but with the other story needing so much of my attention, I cannot waste time on an unappreciated idea.**

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**~ Ad Hominem ~**

"Latin for 'to the man'. Short for _argumentum ad hominem_. Attacking your opponent's character or personal traits instead of engaging with their argument."

**Pilot Chapter**

_ My name is Jude. I guess my parents knew I would be a traitor since the day they had me because they named me after one, Judas. Nobody cares for religion anymore in the Districts. I find it fascinating though I would never be allowed to practice it. I am impure. If the other kids knew about the connotations behind the name I bore I would be mocked more than I have to already grit my teeth through. I have realized the most painful part of their hazing derives from the fact that I know I am stronger than them. I am bigger and faster; I used to be a top student at The Academy. I used to be a lot of things back home._

_ Home is a strange concept that I cannot yet accept because I don't have one but I am looking. I haven't given up the search. My parents have a big one but they do not want me there anymore. I'm eighteen now and I haven't seen them for the past four years of my adolescence life. At times, I pray they are safe back in District 2. Most of the time though, I am filled with rage. Rage at their cruelty and fury at their indifference. I don't think they ever loved me because I know now what that looks like. _

_ District 4 is where I'm at right now—I won't call it home because they would never allow me that honor. I call myself a fish without water in the District of the fish. I do not belong and they try to make that clear to me every chance they get. If I didn't have to work to support myself, I would avoid walking through their fucking town, their accusing eyes glaring me down like I was some sort of animal. _

_ The dump that would represent my house is at the edge of the District where the grass grows tall and the fish swim wild. I have built it myself to isolate my life from their insistent prejudice and narrow minds. It's not much but it's shelter. I have learned to fish but I am not good. The things I used to be good at are forbidden for bastards like me. When I stepped foot in their academy they beat me up so bad I could not work for a week in the factory. I cried that night not because it hurt—I was used to pain—but because I knew I could kill all of them. _

_ I didn't always used to be this bitter. I was a happy child and I had every possibility for success. I think my life changed the day I met Annabelle. She was my angel with hair white as snow and eyes blue as the sunny sky. She was special, unlike the rest of District 2 with their tanned skins and their dark-colored hair. She was my soulmate, the last gift God has ever given me. _

_ He took her back the day he decided I wasn't good enough, the day he chose to abandon me forever. I think my life had started to change way before that moment though I can't pinpoint exactly when my eyes turned away from her radiant beauty, her gracious form. I know two things now for sure. I know I'm gay and I know I am the only one strong enough to admit it in this District. I wasn't surprised that I didn't have allies; I was surprised at the sheer hatred that people could muster. I was disappointed. _

_ I've thought about ending my life but I know I would be lying to myself if I said I was strong enough. I can never give up because Annabelle also gave me my strength. I know that no matter how sore my body feels, how hard my mind aches for relief; I will wake up, look at his beautiful, big, blue eyes and find reason to continue._

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The chaos in town woke him up early that day. I had been trying to sleep through the 'celebration' in an attempt to teach him it wasn't important. I wanted him to know that they wouldn't control his life. Things would change. He was too young to understand but last year the noises had easily excited him to the point that he couldn't fall asleep when I lay down that night with him on my chest, crying in relief. I knew I had to be present when the time of judgment came upon us because the Capitol would not be fooled. Moving Districts meant nothing towards your obligation. I wanted to savor the peaceful surroundings of my dreams a little longer.

I felt his soft, small hands touch my face in that exploring manner and I knew the minute I opened my eyes, I would be looking deep into his crystal blue ones. He had my eyes and I was proud of that because the rest of his pale skin and his platinum, curly ringlets were visibly his mother's. He reminded me so much of her that my heart seized when he woke up at night mumbling 'Mama'. His eyes were mine though and the happiness shining through them reminded me of my childhood. I never had that look in my eyes anymore, the blissful, innocent joy.

"Papa," he whined in his small voice and I stirred awake, smiling at his surprised face. I hurried to grab him off his standing position on the bed next to me and snuggle him beneath me, tickling him with my mouth. His giggle was the only sound that could make me chuckle again. His mouth opened in a smile and you could see his first two top teeth, white and tiny. He had my dimples too but that I often forgot because I hadn't seen mine in ages and nobody was around to comment on them.

"Hey buddy," I greeted him when I let him breathe again. He was small for a child his age; he was close to three. I worried about his health though he never showed signs of any problems. I knew that if he got sick, I would have to beg to have somebody look at him here. The last time they had helped was delivering him back when Annabelle smiled brightly, waving at their awed faces on the street. She would always wear a hat because the sun bothered her skin and I guess the look had earned her the nickname 'Southern Belle'. I didn't have enough knowledge of the past to know what exactly those were but she adored it.

I enveloped his frame in my arms, walking towards the makeshift kitchen. It was going to be a long day and I wanted him to be prepared. He didn't go into town often. Most of the times, he stayed home with an old woman I had managed to convince that I was not a killer. I had not earned her trust by far and she pretended she had nothing to do with us on the street but I didn't complain when she glared at me in that disgusted look. I needed to work and she was the only one who could watch him.

He thanked me when I handed him his bottle before putting it in his mouth and I congratulated him, kissing his cheek. His mother had been insistent on his polite behavior and I had kept it up.

I took him with me as I prepared the clothes. Usually, I would place him on the bed, the floor being off-limits, but today I felt anxious. My heart had not slowed down its pace since I heard the first sounds of life. Today was different and as much as I was trying to stay strong, color myself in indifference, I couldn't stop the way I clutched him tighter to my chest, feelings his small hands cling to my neck and hearing the way he slurped on his milk.

"Look at your new clothes, Kleo. Do you like them?" I asked, keeping up my cheerful attitude and pointing at the bed where I had laid out a sailor suit. I had found it in a shop earlier this month and had saved up as much as I could to get it for him. We didn't have too many clothes, as it wasn't a necessity. I knew they would stare at him today though, analyze him, point. I knew he would feel uncomfortable so I would sacrifice anything to give him something positive to remember.

"Fishy!" he exclaimed, waving his hands and squirming to get down. I laughed, placing him on the bed where he proceeded to pull on the navy onesie and spill milk on the white collar. Staring at him out of the corner of my eye, I put on my own clothes, frowning at the way the white button-down shirt had darkened with use. Looking at myself in the mirror, I spotted the ragged texture of my navy pants but I figured it would have to do. As much as I wished for his sake, blending in would not be an option.

I brushed my hands through my brown curls, frowning at the way they disobeyed my orders, jumping back in front of my blue, distant eyes. My skin was tan like the rest of my home District. When I held Kleo, the contrast between our tones was accentuated, making us look quite different. I had bit my tongue through the jabs about his parentage the last time we strolled in town though I wanted nothing more than to break their teeth and cut their tongues. I feared about the time when Kleo would be old enough to understand their bullshit.

He didn't fidget when I changed his diaper and he didn't whine when I put his clothes on. I think he had noticed my slight change in demeanor. He was my smart boy and he always seemed to know when I was feeling down. Last time I came home late and bruised, he had run up to my arms and whispered that he loved me. He couldn't say many words though I kept talking to him everyday. He was probably the only one I interacted with. My manager didn't deem my job important enough to comment on. After all, I just stood there for hours cleaning fish with my fingers. When I was furious, I would enjoy gutting their little stomachs. I had a lot of pent up frustration at the world.

When he was all ready, I brushed his curls down and placed the hat on his head. I was taking every precaution and he looked adorable in the full sailor outfit. I made a good choice, spending all my money on him. I picked him up and walked in front of the broken mirror so he could look at himself. He giggled and made faces, pointing his cute little tongue out before raising his invisible eyebrows in fascination.

"What do you say, Kleo?" I asked expectantly, looking at the way he hesitated, his forehead frowning in confusion. He seemed to have figured it out as we left the house, staring at me happily and mumbling,

"Thank you, papa."

"You're welcome, baby. We are going out today," I murmured, keeping our conversations between us though we were still far in the outskirts of town. His eyes had already started to roam around, taking in the scenery. His head had lain on my shoulder and I knew he had started sucking his thumb though he was facing away from me. I had been trying to get him out of the habit and the little rascal had figured out how to hide.

I let him continue today because I knew it offered him comfort. He usually did it before bed and often I tried to coax him to sleep with stories. He didn't understand what I was saying but his eyes never lost contact with mine when I was speaking. He liked hearing my voice and he preferred singing but I couldn't get myself to for too long. I got choked up easily when I repeated the same lullabies she had sang when his eyes were closed and his face was red and squished. Singing was a battle between my fear of the hurt that came back with the memories and my desire to please my little one, see the smile light his face, as his eyes closed sleepily.

As I approached the small cottage houses, my hands ran up his back shakily. He had blabbered all the way there, pointing at the surroundings innocently before getting used to the environment and leaning on me again, a blasé look on his face. The sun was shining and the day was hot. I assumed the rays made him sleepy; he had not slept well last night and now he was spacing out, grasping my shirt and drooling on my shoulder.

It was easy to follow the path to the town-hall because the crowds had already formed, walking down the street robotically, without will. They had those plastic smiles on their faces that disappeared at my disheveled sight. I growled under my breath when they bumped into me because I could see by the smirks in the faces of the hateful men that it was on purpose. The women were less physically hostile but their words cut through the air and invaded my mind.

"Isn't that the boy who lives in the woods?"

"I heard he murdered his wife because she wanted to run away with the baby."

"I heard he's a freak of nature. That poor, beautiful girl."

"I heard he got kicked out of his District because he was psychotic. Why is he here?"

"I heard he likes other men. That demented, perverse creature."

"What about that baby? Should he be allowed to keep it?"

I gulped through their shallow opinions, holding my son closer to my heart, gently tucking his scared face into my chest and kissing his forehead lightly. I could see the way his eyes shifted around in panic at the multitude of people surrounding us. He wasn't used to the noise and he wasn't used to all the sudden movements. My heart broke every time he flinched at their screams. One more day, I kept repeating.

"Papa," he whispered meekly, his hands permanently attached to my shirt, further wrinkling it. I knew he was about to cry because I could tell by the fluctuation in his voice. I rocked him gently, shushing him and kissing his nose, earning several disgusted looks from the people walking beside me. I couldn't understand how they could be so stupid. He was my son. Was I not allowed to be affectionate with him because I had decided I wanted to love a man in my future?

"I love you, sweetheart. Do you know that?" I murmured against his soft head, tucking his curls behind his ear with one hand while my other held him up. He looked at me, pouting, his eyes still wet. He eventually nodded at me.

"Show papa how you're a strong boy," I whispered, smiling sadly, and he looked up before wiping his nose clumsily on his own hand. I had to chuckle then, helping him clean up with a napkin. This time when the people kept staring, he held his lower lip strong. Instead he kept pointing back at them curiously and working his baby charm. I loved him. I loved him more than I loved anything in the world and only when we got to the area, next to all the other boys lined up, did I choke on my breath.

I felt my hands shake as my eyes wandered uselessly to try and find a safe haven. I knew I had to leave him but I couldn't bear to have him hurt and the more I accepted that there was nobody to support me, the more my eyes watered in pain. Last year I had pleaded to an elderly couple to hold him until the reaping was over. Last year, I could actually go into town without being chased out with pitchforks. This year was different and I could feel it in the air. I was scared.

"Get in line, kid. We don't have all day," I heard a gruff voice mutter above me in an annoyed tone, grabbing my shoulder and sending me stumbling a couple of steps. I looked at him in desperate anger and once he noticed what I was holding he gawked.

"My son…" I started only to have him further gape, his eyes flying back to the peacekeepers keeping track of the others before joining my blazing ones. I could hear his mind screaming about irresponsible teenagers. If he knew the truth, if they all knew the truth… I felt Kleo shift in my grasp, looking up at the old man in curiosity, and now the peacekeeper was trying hard to keep himself from playing 'find the five differences'.

"Drop him off on the side," he mumbled after several useless attempts at coming up with solutions and I stared at him in shock, shaking my head in denial. I wasn't about to leave him alone in a crowd full of strangers. He was two; he had never been outside much. He was terrified. Couldn't he understand?

"I can't—I have no one. He's only tw—" I stuttered against my will because as much as I wanted to look strong, this wasn't my place to show off. He was on the higher ground, looking down at my pathetic, vermin self. I needed to play the pity card because maybe he was one of the Capitol guards and he hadn't heard of my shunning.

"Don't make me drag you. You should have planned better. This is the reaping, boy. That could be you up there," he stated plainly, clearly unaffected by my condition and I froze at his words, gulping. Kleo was trying to get my attention but it was too late because somebody had said it out loud and now it was real. I could be the one called because my name was there several times, more than necessary with the tesserae. I knew I should have never risked it but I couldn't stand the sight of him crying for food any longer. I was trapped and I couldn't regain my self-control. I knew he could feel my heart hammering against his small chest. I knew I was transferring my dread into him. I had to stop.

"Move!" he angrily bellowed at me this time and my feet moved the opposite direction, as Kleo started to sniffle in my chest, rubbing his eyes. The sound of his voice snapped me out of my haze and I hurried to kiss him, rub his back and whisper his name.

"Kleo, baby, papa's going to go for a second. Only a minute. I will be back, little one. I promise," I murmured hastily, terrified that they would pull me away any minute. I saw his face break and I wiped his eyes, pushing the hair out of his forehead and pulling his face towards mine. "Please, my champion. Will you wait for daddy?"

"No. Daddy no!" he repeated, the tears continuing to fall down his cheeks and run down his chin. His eyes had turned turquoise with the change in mood and I could only bite my lip to hold back my own. I couldn't let them see me weak. They would break me. I had to keep going. I had to believe that God wouldn't punish me this bad. I had to have faith because I was fucking lost and I couldn't do anything.

"I'll be right there. You'll see me, Kleo," I murmured as I kneeled on the ground next to the line of people standing and watching anxiously for their own kids. Couldn't they relate? They knew what it felt like so why where they ignoring me, pretending I wasn't human, repeating to their consciences that I couldn't possibly have emotions?

I saw his little feet touch the earth and he stood on his own, his arms still clinging to my form, his wet face buried in my neck. I rubbed his back, hugging him to myself, breathing heavily to avoid the pressure in my chest and the knot in my throat. I could feel his shoulders shaking and I wanted to pick him up again and ease his fears so badly, yet I couldn't. I was failing him because this was all my fault. He was alone and he had done nothing to deserve this pain.

"Baby, you are strong right? You can sit here why papa goes to get something for you? It's a new toy, Kleo. A new teddy," I whispered, pulling him back from the hug so he could look at my face. I saw his tears reduce in quantity, as he looked behind me and then back at my face. He was still scared but he was distracted and I had to profit from his short attention span.

"Teddy?" he asked again, cocking his head sideways and I nodded vigorously, smiling at him against the will of my mind. I pet his head and wiped his tears clean. I knew the only reason I could even be doing this right now was because he had gotten used to being left in the house.

When his mother first disappeared he suffered from separation anxiety and I could barely function without him clinging off my leg and sobbing in devastation. I had sat him down one day and attempted to explain my absences to him. He had cried but eventually he had nodded to the little piece of chocolate I offered. I had made it a habit to show him something new every day I went back from work, whether it was the few things I could afford or simple objects such as flowers and rocks. He thought I went looking for them all day and I promised him that when he grew taller, I would take him with me. I had to see him grow taller, become my big boy.

"Yes, baby. But you have to wait for a little, yes?" I mumbled one last time, looking at him nod reluctantly, removing his arms and I kissed his little palm once before standing up and inching towards the stand. I looked back more than I stared ahead on my way to the peacekeepers and I noticed the way he waved at me shyly, his hands usually clutching the hat he had removed from his head. Before I stood the next to the other boys my age, who were staring at me in mocking, I focused my eyes on his golden hair one more time, shining brighter than the sun. He had placed his thumb in his mouth again and I placed my own hands in my pockets to hide their shaking.

It was time to breath, slow everything down. It was time to stare ahead and keep my head high for him. Only for him because I hated everybody else with the fires of hell.

A tall, elegant woman stepped up to the podium, her long, blonde hair falling below her waist and her eyes a strange violet. I felt every eye turn on her and I analyzed the way she stared at the size of the crowd anxiously, cliquing her tongue once, before a shy smile found its way on her face. Her lipstick was a bright fuchsia that matched with the ribbon tied neatly in her hair. Her clothes, form fitting, were smothered in pastel colors.

"Hello District 4 and welcome to the 71st annual Hunger Games!" she exclaimed, picking up speed as she reached the end of the sentence. Her smile then transformed into a huge grin that looked scarier than it seemed pleasant. By the lack of control she had, fidgeting and often talking too close to the microphone, I could tell she was new, inexperienced at the job and unsure of what was needed of her. I bet they had told her to wave and smile at the poor people.

I toned out her rambling, high-pitched voice in favor of keeping an eye on Kleo who had sat himself on the floor, looking at his shoes in fascination, poking them with his index finger. I smiled slightly at the sight, remembering why I could do this, why he could keep me hanging on no matter how much my arms hurt. He was my reason to live and I would sacrifice my left lung if that meant his life turned better. He must have noticed my stare because he looked up all of a sudden, his big eyes stirring at the sight of the crowd before he located me. I wanted to wave at him when I saw the lost look on his face but I kept my body rigid instead raising my eyebrows and smiling at him slightly. The grin he sent back eased the pain away and I had almost forgotten my initial fear when the first name was called.

"Adina Eber," the blonde Rapunzel cleared her throat before shouting and my eyes snapped back to the stage. The crowd shifted and I looked down because I hated facing the lost look that the sacrifices had on their faces. The glint in their eye that screamed 'I am walking towards my death'. I heard the people move aside and the sound of her footsteps, slow and deliberate, rang through my ears. There were five steps in total and when she reached the top one, I gazed at her face, comparing my imagination to the real person.

I didn't know her but then again I didn't know anyone here. I hadn't been to school and I wasn't welcome in most types of social gatherings. I missed Bells. She was the one that everyone adored. She was the one they warmed up to and I had benefited from her open personality. I hadn't been labeled safe even before I decided to 'embrace Satan'.

The girl had black eyes and dark hair, falling on her shoulders, glossy and long. From the silky, posh dress she was sporting, I knew she was well-off and I couldn't turn around to search for her family because Kleo was there and the boy's name would be called in less than six seconds. My palms were sweating inside my pockets and my insides ached in anticipation. The sun felt hotter and the sweat building on my brow kept sliding down my nose. I wanted to scratch away the itch but my fingers had glued together and the tendons quivered. My mouth was dry and I was praying to God that the others couldn't see my shaking. I felt my body twitch but I wasn't aware of how noticeable it was. Count to ten, I supplied to my mind in my state of disarray. This will be the last time you will ever have to endure this. Think about sleeping with Kleo, holding his small, vulnerable frame against your chest. Think about his smile. Think about—

"Jude Nequam!"

Lots of eyes turned towards me at the same time, shocked. Not a single one of them was mocking now and I blinked confused before I let it sink in. I couldn't feel the rest of my body and I might have been swaying. My vision was moving at the very least, hazy, blurry, clear, too bright. What was happening? My ears had filled up with the swishing sound of blood. I could see the blonde waving me over excitedly, motioning for me to come forward, the smile holding strong on her young face. I tried to look anywhere else but that was the only thing I could see because my eyes wouldn't obey. They stung, my throat burned. I couldn't breathe. She was looking at me pleadingly now, her palm on her mouth in that confused gesture. Other mouths were moving, insulting me probably with the way they were snarling, but I couldn't hear them. How had she known it was me? Was it me?

My cloud broke as my body lurched forward and all my reflexes screamed danger as I turned around to see two men grab me by my arms and drag me across the floor, my old shoes scraping against the rocks. The crowd before us opened like Moses' sea and I took note of their shaking heads. I was too shocked to react the first few steps but then I heard his voice and all I knew was: I couldn't let them get me. I had to fight. I had to escape. I had to get to my baby.

"Daddy!" Kleo cried hoarsely, sobbing from the sidelines and my eyes searched for him in the middle of the limbs, their grasps strangling me and not letting me move. I was squirming, pushing them off with all my might, punching and throwing kicks because his crying was the only thing in the background and I had to get to him. The silence doubled my pain because I knew everyone was watching us like a show. Nobody was moving to help me—help him.

I felt my knees scrape against the floor, blood mixing with the dirt as the pushed me down, cracking my arms behind my back and holding me in place. I grunted at the pain shooting from my shoulders, my torso felt on fire though I knew they were merely trying to restrain me. They still wanted me to fight in the arena. This was just extra entertainment.

My eyes shot up to find him and the minute he saw me, he ran towards the center in that unbalanced way I loved seeing him do. I sobbed for them to let me go, staring in horror at how the crowd only moved aside to let him pass, some jumping away as if he was infected. He was bawling now, running towards me with his arms extended, his eyes two pools of water, his face flushed, snot running down his nose.

I struggled against my captors, screaming for him, trying to keep my voice calm to stop him from worrying. I knew I wasn't succeeding though because I could hear the echoes of my statements, wet and desperate. The more I cried for him, the more he screamed 'papa', and I was stuck in an endless loop, wanting to let my tears fall past that barrier. They were hurting him and I wanted to kill them all with my own hands.

I broke when I saw him fall midway, his knees collapsing below him and his butt hitting the ground with a soft thud. I knew he wasn't hurt because usually he picked himself up after those stumbles but this time he wailed out loud, his hands touching his bleeding knees and his eyes looking at me in accusation. He was saying 'You promised and you didn't protect me'.

I went wild with rage, jumping up in adrenaline and thrashing against their grasps so violently that I heard my shirt rip. They were screaming for me to stop and he was yelling for me to come to him, now begging 'please, papa'. I couldn't hear anything else, his words shattering everything, but I felt the blows coming on my chest and my arms. I felt the way they twisted my wrist, agony shooting up my arm. I heard one of them mutter for the other to knock me out and I cried in pain every time he failed at finding the right spot behind my neck. I hit the floor hard, my face smashing against it and I coughed, gaining my breath. My forearms shook in effort as I pushed myself up only to be kicked down again, their boots landing on my stomach, making me lurch in agony. Air! I needed to breath. My lungs were on fire.

"He's my son, please. He's my son!" I kept yelling in between my blood-filled coughs, my voice hoarse. My nails were filled with dirt from how hard I was holding on to the floor and my face felt numb. They wouldn't take me away.

_Annabelle, if you can hear me, protect our son. Please, give me a miracle._

I thought it was over with the last blow because I saw my vision waver but then there was another voice, screeching in the air with an authoritative tone I had not expected. The silence reigned and I felt light now that the beating had stopped. My ears tried to focus on her syllables and my eyes never moved from my boy, who was on the floor, sniffling and hiccupping, his face dirty from his wiping.

"Stop! Stop! He has a baby. Can't you see he's only trying to get to his son? You monsters," Rapunzel screeched, horrified, and I felt their hands move away from me. I could see her pink stilettos click past me and I bristled, struggling to sit up when I saw her hoist Kleo gently on her hip, walking towards me with a sympathetic expression on her face. I had never been more grateful in my life and though Kleo kept squirming in complaint, I smiled at her weakly through my devastated face, reaching out for him when she was close enough.

She kneeled in front of me, her pink lips coming into my view and her violet eyes, the ones that clashed horribly with her clothes, staring at me apologetically. Kleo was lowered on the floor beside me and, shaking in pain, I hugged him closer to me, hearing his sobbing against my neck. My fingers clang to his soiled sailor onesie and my eyes closed against the pain. He pulled back to stare at me, his fingers holding my face, and I kissed his hands when they passed over my lips, wanting to do so much more yet knowing that the minute I attempted to move, I would collapse. I couldn't lose consciousness though my brain felt swollen, complaining against the bright lights.

My other hand cuddled him again, pulling his frame to my bruised chest, my fingers finding his soft curls, and I kissed his wet forehead, my eyes finally watering enough to let a tear escape past my barrier as I whispered against his small, perky ears:

"I love you, Kleo. Daddy loves you more than anything."

I heard his sniffles slow down, his hands still exploring my face. Though he was agitating the sores, I felt nothing but relief because I could touch him again, hold him in my shaking arms. He was still with me and I couldn't think about the moment they would pull him away. He had nowhere to go. He kept blabbering frantically and I couldn't make out any of his words but I knew he must have been as scared as I at our separation. My heart seized at the thought. What happened now? How could I fight for him?

_What would Annabelle want me to do?_

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**I know, I know. It was strange but I hoped I already warned you on that. What did you guys think about the soon-to-be twist? Does this story have the potential to grow or do I...**

***drumroooooll**

**THE BUCKET OF DEATH PLUNGE! **

**Woooooooo.**

**Thank You for Keeping an Open Mind,**

**Y.A.77**


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